


My Beloved Monster

by Esperata



Category: Batman (Movies 1989-1997)
Genre: Chaste Kisses, Child Abuse, Christmas, Developing Friendships, Genetic Disorders & Abnormalities, M/M, Murder, Parent Death, Running Away, Separations, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: One was a 16 year old kid from an abusive home, the other a medical anomaly living in a circus, but when their paths cross whole new possibilities open up for them both.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 32
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's no big romance here. They're just kids experiencing the first flutters of love. But in the future? Who knows.

It was terribly cliché, running away to join a circus, but  that didn’t diminish the appeal for Ed. If anything, it lent it a reassuring precedent. People apparently did this all the time. It stood to reason, after all. How else were so many circuses populated?

He’d been thinking about it and idly planning it for months before he actually did anything. Reading borrowed books on the history of the travelling shows and biographies of notable people who’d starred in them. He knew about the use of cons and found that aspect particularly fascinating. How people with medical conditions were passed off as wolfmen and mermaids. The tales of psychics and mediums intrigued him most however and he had plotted out his own scheme for how he could help operate such a deception.

Whether or not he’d ever have acted on all these half-formed daydreams without a trigger though was dubious. While he might have liked to imagine himself as assertive and confident, the truth was that Ed generally struggled when conveying even his most basic ideas to other people. It often left him battling self doubt and he’d rather bite his tongue than hear more derogatory comments. Leaving was a pipe dream for him and he knew the fear of the unknown outweighed his predictable home life, no matter how violent. Or at least he thought so.

That was until Christmas Eve rolled around and his father found a whole new reason to be angry with him, escalating the violence to not merely painful but genuinely life threatening. The worst part of it was, it was only another stupid mocking joke on the part of his peers anyway.

His parents acknowledged the holiday externally, with lights and decorations to show the neighbours they were a jolly happy family, but behind closed doors it was only another occasion to berate their decision not to abort Ed and complain about how much of a drain on their lives he was. He’d never enjoyed the season therefore and avoided most events associated with it since they only reminded him of the hypocrisy. He certainly hadn’t expected any well wishes from school so the card through the door addressed to him was completely unexpected. Perhaps that was why he’d been so incautious as to open it in sight of his parents.

He knew that had been a mistake the moment he saw the heart strewn imagery yet a hypnotic force had still compelled him to open it. There was no surprise to read the flowery and almost lewd verses inside, all signed off in a very obviously fake hand for someone with his gift for pattern recognition, from ‘Bruce Wayne’. It was pathetically obvious that his classmates were trying to embarrass him, perhaps hoping he’d make a fool of himself in front of the school’s most popular boy, and he couldn’t help but flush at the thought.

Unfortunately for him, while he was analysing that trap, his father had caught a glimpse of the romantic card and took advantage of his hesitation to grab it from him. There was absolutely no possibility of Ed explaining it was only a cruel joke. Ed knew it wouldn’t even matter that the supposed sender was the richest kid in Gotham. All his father would see was a boy’s name before seeing absolute red.

The first fist caught him square on the cheek, knocking his glasses askew but thankfully landing too low to either break his eye socket or his frames. The next blows hit him about the head as he tried feebly to block them with his arms even while staggering away from the onslaught. Instinctively he knew that this time,  _ this time _ , merely retreating to his room wouldn’t save him. He needed to get out and away. Stumbling to the door therefore he frantically pulled it open and slipped through to run down the path and out into the street.

“Man up or stay out!” his father’s voice yelled at him before slamming the door against any immediate retreat.

So Edward stood, cheek swelling painfully, facing possibly his worst Christmas yet with nowhere to go and nothing to help him through it. Then it started to rain.

Turning his face upwards, he let the cold water run over his face to soothe the burning ache, and actually began to feel better. It was at that point that the idea returned to his mind of running away to the circus. There’d been talk at school of a troupe being in town and Ed had very briefly entertained the notion of going as a holiday treat before dismissing the prospect as sheer folly. Now though he found himself smiling as he realised he could actually spend Christmas Eve there and maybe, just maybe, find a better life for himself in the process.

Pausing a second to recollect the details therefore, he then reoriented himself and set off with a new lightness to his steps. As he walked he began to go over the possible scenarios in his head. The simplest course would be to find the owner and request to join but that was too humdrum. In his imagination Ed would approach a stall, perhaps one of the clairvoyants even, and effortlessly unravel the mystery of their success. Bowled over by his intellect they’d immediately present him to the others who’d welcome him for his obvious skill.

The daydream spiralled quickly into all the ways he’d bedazzle the pitiful punters - people like his parents - and how eagerly he’d be accepted by the clever charlatans who regularly preyed on them. Posters would go up featuring him and offering prizes to any who could compete with him mentally. He’d have a range of puzzles of his own design to test participants with. Perhaps even marketing them commercially when his fame spread.

His happy thoughts carried him just inside the ticket barrier before crashing painfully with reality. Perhaps surprisingly, it had honestly never occurred to him that he’d encounter any of his peers there, although in hindsight he wondered why he’d never thought of that possibility. It seemed that every way he looked he recognised groups of kids from school, either in their usual cliques or, in some instances, obviously there on dates. They were focused enough on their own pleasure that his arrival went completely unnoticed but he still felt suddenly vulnerable again. The pain in his cheek was a clear reminder of their threat to him and he instinctively knew the fact it was Christmas would not spare his torment the moment they spotted him.

Quickly therefore he ducked down a path off the main thoroughfare and into the lesser visited edges. There were just as many tents along here, although the more sparse lighting made them loom rather than invite. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if the perennial Gotham Bay fog hadn’t rolled in after the rain. But at least none of them offered food or rides such as were available in the central circle of attractions which for Edward’s purposes felt like a boon. These were the more niche interests that likely wouldn’t interest his classmates so it seemed he might be able to finally relax.

He should have known better than to let his guard down so soon.

A sudden hissing made him flinch and stumble even before glancing round brought him eye to eye with a mammoth snake. Dragging his gaze past the serpent he saw a flame haired woman grinning at him.

“She doesn’t bite. Would you care to hold her?”

He shook his head vehemently and stepped backwards hastily.

“That’s a ball python,” he spoke rapidly. “They don’t tend to bite but will use constriction to kill their prey. In Europe they’re known as Royal pythons because they would be worn like jewelry. It's said Cleopatra wore one as a bracelet-”

“Yeah alright. A simple no would have sufficed.”

The snake lady turned and stalked back to her tent, cooing to her pet as she went. Behind her Ed flushed in embarrassment, cursing his gabbling mouth that would overcompensate. He ducked his face a little and hurried on. Only to rebound off a blockade of an arm suddenly dropped in his path.

Looking up he saw only a wide expanse of tattooed chest. Looking up further he saw a frightening face with teeth bared in what he assumed was meant to be a smile.

“Come! Test your strength! Win a prize!”

“Um… ah… no.”

For the second time Ed stumbled backwards. This time his companion stepped after him, maintaining their dominating presence.

“No? Why refuse? Everyone wins a prize. Even scrawny boys like you. Unless you miss the drop completely.”

A booming laugh followed which made Ed flinch and shrink into himself.

“I… don’t... “ Instinctively his eyes scanned either side of the man, looking for an escape, and he easily spotted a route past. “Maybe later.”

Darting down and bending sideways Ed slipped past and hurried on, now less intent on what he was headed to and far more concerned with what he was heading from. Perhaps that was why he was caught off guard again. This time he yelped as a blade swung in an arc first in front of him and then behind him. Casting his now terrified eyes left he met a scarily familiar smug smile. It was hauntingly similar to the bullies right before they humiliated him.

Unconsciously therefore he held his breath, only to freeze as he saw the long haired man swallow the sword in one fell swoop. Ed’s eyes fixated on it as it was gracefully removed and then lowered to point at him again. His eyes followed the blade back up to the expectant face watching him and suddenly all his resolve deserted him. He ran. He’d expected to find a family atmosphere of gymnasts and friendly clowns, not whatever this was.

Instinct made him seek shelter in a darkened tent, probably uninhabited while the owner performed elsewhere. He realised it wasn’t as black as he’d first thought when he navigated the short curved entrance corridor leading to the interior and found the inner chamber dimly lit. Still he thought by the muffled quiet that it was at least empty and therefore reasonably safe for now. Continuing inside however he stopped short to find it wasn’t the comfortable retreat he’d supposed.

In the centre of the space was a large cage resembling an oversized antique birdcage with a hunched shape within. His eyes darted immediately to the sign affixed to the side, hoping to ascertain the level of danger it posed, only to be alarmed to read ‘DO NOT STICK FINGERS IN CAGE’. He almost fled again before rationalising that the creature, whatever it might be, was contained and that apparently the circus people were keeping it in isolation so he shouldn’t be disturbed here.

As he dallied in the doorway, the figure within the cage shifted and turned itself about so it faced him. Ed gasped as he realised that what he'd assumed was some mindless beast was in fact a kid just like him. Unthinkingly he approached, only to have the figure draw back and hiss aggressively. With a frown he stopped and surveyed them again.

Now he was thinking about it, of course they’d react defensively. Someone had put them in a cage. Although perhaps they’d had good reason to? His mind ran back through the various ‘exhibits’ he’d read about. The supposed savages on display for a gawking public. In nearly every case it was an appellation unfairly given and only the cruelty of the keepers guaranteed such displays of brutishness. Therefore, if he treated this captive fairly then he should have every expectation of getting a similar response back.

Raising his hands submissively therefore he offered a cautious smile.

“I don’t mean to hurt you. I was seeking shelter here myself from the people outside.”

For a moment he wondered if they even understood english as they frowned in puzzlement and stared at him silently. Nevertheless he persevered.

“Do you mind if I stay here with you awhile?”

“You… you’re asking my _permission_?”

Ed couldn’t help but grin widely at the reply. The voice was undeniably rough but the pronunciation was surprisingly clear and denoted an obvious intelligence.

“Well, this is apparently your tent. It seemed only polite to ask.”

“My tent,” the boy echoed. “Yes. I suppose.”

A surprisingly attentive eye cast over Ed as he settled himself cross legged on the floor beside the cage.

“You said people outside were chasing you. Why?”

“Why are you in that cage?” Ed retorted, uncomfortable admitting how scared he’d been by the circus people or how he’d been running away from home due to a combination of bullying at school and by his parents. He wasn’t expecting the snorting laugh in response.

“I’m a freak. This is a freak show. Where else should I be?”

“You don’t look like a freak to me,” Ed answered instinctively.

He snapped his mouth shut at the feral grin he received at that. The unnaturally sharp looking teeth reminded him abruptly of the sign he’d seen. A gurgling laugh burbled from his companion, accompanied by a dark fluid seeping through the jagged gaps in his canines. Then oddly distorted hands gripped the bars as his imprisoned host pulled himself closer to leer unpleasantly.

“Oh but you’ve strayed from the path, boy. Didn’t your mother warn you what lay off the path?” He grinned wide again, letting more of the bile spurt between his lips as he did so. “Here be  _ monsters_.” 

Staring wide eyed back at him, all Ed could do was swallow hard.


	2. Chapter 2

"You’re _fascinating_ ,” Ed breathed.

“I’m- Wait. What?”

The figure stepped back in obvious surprise, unconsciously wiping his chin as he did so. As he retreated though, Ed moved closer to the cage.

“I mean you’re a real life anomaly. I’ve read so much about various sideshow exhibits that are nothing more than fake skins or paints. Scams for the gullible. But you!” He propped himself up on his knees for a better look. “Those hands are real aren’t they? I can even see the veins through the skin.”

“They’re the hands of a freak,” the target of his interest spat. “A monster. Spawn of the devil.”

“Nonsense,” Ed scoffed, interrupting his spitting rant. “It’s syndactyly. It's unusual, sure, but hardly the sign of a monster.”

“There see? _Sin_ -dactyl. Sinful fingers.” He wiggled them for emphasis. “Giving it a fancy name doesn’t change what it is.”

“Except that isn’t the translation. It’s _syn_ as in _together._ From the Greek.”

Edward pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and watched as his companion’s eyes zeroed in on the motion.

“You might explain those away but not with everything else.” The hands continued to gesture as he listed features off. “This beak of a nose. The teeth of a savage. Black bile to spit like a cobra.” -he added a hiss that Ed thought was an instinctive part of his routine performance- “A constitution adapted for cold. None of the hair you mammalians have-”

“Don’t you have nipples?”

The interruption was sufficiently distracting to cut the practiced patter and return his attention to Ed.

“What?”

“You suggested you weren’t mammalian,” Ed pointed out.

Inside the cage, the circus boy straightened as much as his frame allowed.

“I’m the Penguin Boy,” he announced.

“Right. But, do you have nipples?”

The question continued to confuse and the Penguin Boy frowned.

“I don’t see why you’re asking.”

“Mammals have nipples. It’s the defining feature. Well, that and belly buttons. Do you have a belly button?”

That caused an instinctive glance to his midriff as though he needed to check the answer himself but in the second’s delay Ed’s mouth had already run on.

“Although I suppose both the echidna and platypus don’t have actual nipples per se, but they do still produce milk for their young so they still count. Though it wouldn’t be a fair question to ask if you produce milk.”

“No,” he snapped irritably. “I don’t produce milk. I produce the devil’s own bile.”

He spat a gob at Ed’s feet. Whatever reaction he was expecting though he didn’t get it. Ed merely tilted his head and started tapping at his lip.

“Wait a minute. This all rings a bell… Did you say you didn’t sweat?”

“I faint in the summer months,” he almost crowed. “Burn away so far from the icy realms of Antarctica.”

Ed ignored the embellishment and shut his eyes, unconsciously beating a rhythm on the side of his cranium as he focused.

“I know I read something,” he murmured. “Heat intolerance, facial abnormalities, malformed teeth, mucus-” His eyes snapped open and he grinned triumphantly. “Hypohidrotic Ectodermal Dysplasia.”

If Ed had expected an astonished reaction in his turn, he too was disappointed. All he got was a blank stare before he heard a long suffering sigh.

“What?”

“It's a condition,” he rushed to explain. “ _ Really _ rare but it would explain so much! The lack of hair, the sensitivity to heat, the odd-”

“What are you?” The interruption this time was highly suspicious. “A doctor?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ed shifted awkwardly, feeling tendrils of embarrassment as he sensed he might have pried too much. “I’m far too young to be a doctor.”

There was a noticeable silence and he chanced a glance. Thankfully he saw only curiosity at the turn of their conversation.

“How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen.” He leapt on the opening, happy not to have been shut down in his rambling yet, and quickly turned the question back. “How old are you?”

He received a shrug in response.

“I’ve no idea.”

Now it was Edward’s turn to frown in puzzlement.

“How can you have no idea? Don’t you have parents? A birthday?”

The rumbling laugh startled Edward and he flinched briefly.

“I don’t have parents like you.” Ed darted his glance away at the reference to his own family life. “I was found in the river but I’m pretty sure I’ve been here fifteen years. So I guess we’re about the same age. Or I might be a little older. I’m not sure how old I was then and I may have miscounted the years.”

“And you’ve been kept like this?” Edward gestured almost helplessly at the bars.

“I don’t live in the cage.” A faint smile lit his face, the first Edward had seen. “I stay with the penguins. I’m only in here today ‘cause I bit a guest.”

As if to conceal it, he turned his smile into a baring of teeth.

“Why did you bite them?”

For a few beats, Ed wasn’t sure he’d be told. Then the Penguin Boy spoke again in a low mutter.

“He said that if he looked like me… he’d kill himself.”

Ed felt the insult to the pit of his own stomach and it brought him a steely resolve he rarely felt.

“He deserved whatever you did to him,” he avowed.

It was as if the support broke some final resistance and the Penguin Boy’s shoulders slumped.

“He didn’t even see the  _ worst  _ part. The sign that I truly  _ am  _ a monster.”

Despite himself Ed found himself holding his breath, unsure if he wanted to ask or whether he dared. Regardless, the decision to reveal all was made without his input. Whatever he might have expected however, it wasn’t what he saw as the Penguin Boy pulled down his pants unceremoniously.

For an instant Ed was too startled to realise what he was seeing but then he couldn’t help but stare. A part of his mind screamed at him that he should look away because ogling another boy’s genitals was wrong yet it was overwhelmed by his scientific fascination.

"I suppose this is normal too?" The tense voice broke his whirling thoughts but not his concentration.

"Not normal, no, but documented."

“Yeah.” A self derogatory laugh escaped him even as he tucked himself away. “I heard snakes have two penises too. Perhaps I should have been called the Serpent Boy. Whatever I am, its not natural. Not… human.”

Without considering the move at all, Ed surged towards the cage and gripped the bars hard.

“You’re different, I’ll grant you but you’re just as human as me.”

“How can you look at me… at all this,” he waved his flippers erratically, “and call me human?”

“Because being human is about more than how you look. It's how you think and how you act too. And I think these… differences you have are the result of outside agents. Nothing intrinsic to you.”

“What do you mean?”

The questioning tone and puzzled frown fed Ed’s excitement. He was so used to being told to shut up or having his theories dismissed that being asked was a heady excitement.

“There was a big scandal years ago, probably a year or so before I was born. Some company was dumping teratogens into the river. It used to be a problem all over and several kids my age have an older sibling affected somehow. Most of the pregnancies never came to term though. My parents-” He stopped to swallow the words back before catching a glimpse of entreating eyes begging for validation and found himself continuing. “My parents often say they wished that had happened to me.”

The admission brought him a shocked gasp and Ed instinctively ducked his gaze. Moments later he felt smooth hands wrap themselves over where his were turning white with the tense hold.

“That’s awful. How could any parents think that about a perfect child like you?”

Ed’s lips twitch into a smile.

“I’m not perfect. Not by any means. But… thank you.”

The other boy released him and shifted back again.

“Parents should love their child no matter what,” he muttered. “I’m just lucky to have washed up during the holiday season. The ringmaster felt charitable since it was Christmas.”

“Do you never wonder about your parents?”

“My… parents?”

It sounded as if the idea had actually never occurred to him before.

“You must have  _ had  _ parents,” Ed pointed out. “They may even still be around. Perhaps they’re wondering what happened to their baby all those years ago.”

That suggestion won him snorting laughter.

“I don’t think that’s likely. The ringmaster thinks I’m some half breed river creature.”

“He may say that,” Ed countered. “But I doubt he believes it. He probably knows more about where you came from than he’s letting on. I mean, where exactly did you wash up? Were you found with anything?”

“I don’t know,” the boy huffed. “If I had anything with me he’d have snaffled it. He’s quite the kleptomaniac.” There was a distinct pause as an idea occurred to him. “Though he does keep a record. Of everything he’s gathered. Where and when it was found. He probably recorded me in there too.”

“Perfect. If we find that book then we can find out more about where you originally came from.”

“Hold on a minute. When did this become ‘we’? And who said I wanted to find out anything?”

“Oh.”

Ed deflated. He’d been so caught up in the conversation and prospect of doing something  _ with  _ somebody for a change that he’d forgotten the plain fact that nobody actually wanted to do anything with him.

“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.” He flexed his fingers reflexively. “I just thought it would be fun.”

He made to move away back to the tent exit, already beginning to dread facing whatever awaited him out there, when he was halted.

“Wait.”

Glancing back he saw the Penguin Boy looked as awkward as he felt.

“You really want to help me trace my past? What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing.” He quickly realised that answer wasn’t going to get him far and reconsidered. “In all honesty… I don’t want to go home and you’re the first person I’ve met who doesn’t frighten me. In fact, I’ve had more fun with you in the past half hour than I’ve had with anyone in my entire life.”

“You can’t mean that.”

The pallid boy had tilted his head disbelievingly but Ed could see the moment he registered that he wasn’t in fact exaggerating.

“Huh. You’re really not scared of me?”

“Why should I be?”

An arched eyebrow answered him and he recognised what the boy meant.

“You look different,” he conceded. “And medically speaking you’re unusual. But that’s no reason for anyone to be scared. Do you even know what a miracle you are? To display these traits and not only survive but turn them to your advantage? I'm sorry if other people don’t realise what a wonder you are but I'm not so short sighted."

"Despite the glasses," the boy teased and Ed abruptly understood it was friendly teasing. He grinned at him and got a flash of a smile in return. “What’s your name?”

“Edward. What’s yours?”

He received another shrug in answer.

“Penguin Boy.”

“Surely you have another name? Or a nickname at least?”

The boy was shaking his head before seeming to hesitate and rethink.

“Well… the other freaks call me Pengy sometimes.”

“Pengy.” Ed smiled happily. “How about I help you out of that cage and we investigate this mystery?”

“And just how do you propose to do that Eddie?”

Undoubtedly the singsong tone was meant mockingly, or as a play upon his own use of the nickname ‘Pengy’, but regardless having someone use such a colloquial form of his given name gave him a sudden unexpected sense of belonging. Nevertheless he snorted derisively at the implied lack of faith.

“I’ve read a lot about circuses and travelling shows,” he began to explain, even while stepping round to examine the padlock. “I wanted to know all the ins and outs, every background secret and trick.” Briefly he paused to extract his brace from his mouth before continuing as he prised loose the wire. “It’s an endlessly intriguing game of one upmanship. As the punters figure out one ploy the acts have to invent new ways to impress. Except for attractions like yourself of course.” His gaze flickered up from where he was now fiddling the wire into the lock. “People will always flock to admire wonders of nature.

“But naturally in my research I read a lot about Houdini and escapology. The type of skill anyone might master with enough patience. I’m not at a showman’s level yet-” he grinned as the sound of the lock opening interrupted his chatter, “-but I’m pretty nifty, if I do say so myself.”

Inside the cage, the other boy looked astonished at the door being opened for him. Then he too grinned.

“Well, well. You’re certainly someone worth knowing aren’t you?”

Edward couldn’t help but beam at the praise, even as his rescuee stumbled out to join him.

“Come on. We should be able to get into the ringmaster’s caravan while he’s still in the big top.”

“Don’t you have a coat or anything?”

It only just occurred to Ed that his outfit was aesthetically designed to resemble the plumage of penguin, being an ill fitting black jacket and pants with what must have once been a white shirt underneath. It didn’t look warm enough for the current weather.

“It's the heat that bothers me, not the cold,” he was told, the boy wasting no time in leading the way outside again. “Now let’s get going before we’re caught.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was ridiculously easy to unlock the ringmaster’s caravan and open his security box to get at his private journal. Pengy watched attentively and Ed got the distinct impression that the other boy was far more intelligent than most people realised. He probably picked up a lot of things by simply paying attention while people underestimated his cognitive abilities. The realisation made him wonder what kind of education the Penguin Boy had received but they were distracted by finding the relevant entry for his adoption into the circus.

Perhaps surprisingly, Pengy had been pulled out of Gotham river. The entry referred to sundry clothing, obviously long since gone, but also a scrawled note which was being used as a bookmark. Although it was dry now it had obviously been heavily water damaged and whatever the original writing had said was long since illegible. Yet there was still a clear heraldic emblem printed on the top of the paper albeit somewhat faded. Ed fell silent from his verbal ramblings as Pengy reached forward a flipper to touch the old document.

“Do you recognise it?” he asked Edward.

He shook his head. Old family insignia were not an area he’d ever studied.

“What do you think it said?” Ed asked instead. “Oh. Perhaps you were born out of wedlock and your mother hid you for safekeeping! Maybe she’s been longing for the day she can be reunited.”

His fanciful suggestion won him a snort and the deformed hand retreated.

“If there were anyone out there who wanted me the ringmaster would have sold me to them already.”

“Maybe he didn’t know who she was,” Ed argued, looking to make the facts fit his theory. “Heraldry isn’t exactly common knowledge.”

“But he could have found out,” Pengy countered immediately. “Couldn’t he?”

“Yes,” Ed conceded before smiling brightly. “Yes! And so can we.”

Which was how they came to be sneaking out of the circus and through the streets of town. Where the Penguin Boy had been thoroughly at ease in the tent lined alleyways, his attitude changed abruptly once between concrete houses. He was intensely curious about what could be seen through windows and Ed had to hurry him on lest he be caught staring. The car headlights flashing over them made him flinch and duck his face away and Ed wasn’t sure if it was the sheer brightness of them or his self-consciousness. Either way he was glad when they reached the door he wanted.

“Is this your house?” Pengy asked, staring somewhat in awe up at the ornate brick building.

“What? No. This is the public library.”

“Oh. Are all public buildings so grand?”

Ed spared the familiar building a glance. Although he rarely thought about it, the architecture on these state run places was naturally designed to reflect the city’s affluence. He could see why a tourist might be impressed by the colonnades and decorative gables.

“I suppose so.” He returned his attention to the book deposit slot and knelt to reach his spindly arm through.

“I’d like to have the money to build something like this.”

“You’d need the council treasury for that,” Ed muttered distractedly. “Or family wealth like the Waynes’ to become a patron.”

“Well, maybe I have,” he suggested fancifully before posing dramatically. “What do you think? Is this an aristocratic profile?”

Ed grinned, both at the playfulness and at the latch clicking open.

“Oh absolutely.” He bowed low and held open the door. “After you my Lord Penguin.”

“Huh. Lord Penguin. I could get used to that.”

The Penguin Boy maintained his arrogant walk until the room opened into the main body of the library whereupon he slowed instinctively to stare around. Ed allowed him a minute to take it in before leading him where they needed to go. There was something special about sharing his love of the place with someone else who had a similar reverence for the knowledge therein. After his initial surprised silence Pengy had numerous questions about what sorts of topics they could find there and Ed was happy to answer them all. He did have some of his own as well however.

“I don’t mean to be rude but how did you learn to read?”

“The circus freaks taught me of course.”

They were currently delayed while the shorter boy ran his paired fingers over the spines of a selection of ornithology books.

“But I thought they treated you like an animal? You said you lived with the penguins.”

“It was the birds who found me by the river. If they hadn’t huddled round me I’d probably have died of cold. That was what alerted the ringmaster to me. By the time he picked me up the birds were very attached and he figured it was easier to let them watch over the brat than do it himself.”

“That’s awful.”

Pengy turned to him quizzically.

“They’re as much my family as your human one. Perhaps more so given that bruise and how you came hiding at the circus from them.”

The pointed reminder discomforted Ed who looked away and restarted their journey through the shelves.

“The other circus performers taught you to read though?” he returned the conversation to the previous topic.

“Freaks, Ed. Call them what they are. But yes. They taught me to read and write. To count and read maps. I learned to recite Shakespeare and how to mend equipment. Anything that they knew they taught me.”

“Except,” Ed turned and raised his index finger pointedly. “How to solve the riddle of your birth.”

His announcement gained him all the other boy’s attention and he showboated a little as he considered the relevant books and selected the one he wanted, that being a local history work on prominent families of Gotham.

“We don’t have to read all that, do we?” Pengy promptly complained. “It looks dull.”

“It's not actually,” Ed objected. “But, no we don’t. There’s a section on coats of arms. If your family were significant enough to have it printed on headed paper I imagine it will be covered here. The author really dug deep on everyone who was anyone in this city.”

He pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and laid it next to the open book on a nearby desk. Pengy joined him immediately in leaning over it to look at the various designs. It was strangely distracting to have a warm body so close, sharing a fascination in the same puzzle as him, and it took him perhaps longer than it should have to spot the match. As it was Pengy reached out a finger to tap a sharp nail on the design first.

“Is that it? It looks the same to me but…”

He trailed off and Ed wondered if the possibility of discovering his family was overwhelming him. In case it was, Ed made a double check before offering his opinion, peering closer and comparing the tiniest details of colour and shape he could make out.

“That’s it,” he eventually confirmed, standing up straight. “The Cobblepots. They were very influential back in the day. Quite the philanthropists. In their way every bit as well known as the Waynes.”

“Which explains why they didn’t want to be tainted with the disgrace of me hanging like an albatross about their necks,” Pengy growled.

“Well, I suppose they might have thought that. These holier than thou upper class families often aren’t so nice when you scratch beneath the surface.”

“I wonder why the ringmaster never tried to track them down and blackmail them?” Pengy stepped forward and peered over the book and letterhead again. “It wasn’t as difficult as I might have thought to trace them. Is this a rare book?”

“No. Not really. But it's possible he  _ did  _ find out who they were.”

“Why do you say that?” Pengy prompted as Ed fell silent.

Being asked to elaborate caught Ed out slightly and he blinked before gathering himself and shrugging.

“They  _ were  _ influential,” he repeated. “But a number of poor investments and bad financial decisions effectively bankrupted them. They pretty much keep to themselves in their manor house now.”

He was suddenly subject to a piercing look.

“They?”

“Yeah. Esther and Tucker Cobblepot. Oh.” It suddenly dawned on Ed what had obviously struck his companion. “Your parents.”

“My… parents.”

Silence fell and Ed couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through the Penguin Boy’s mind. He’d been so focused on the puzzle aspect of everything and he really hadn’t considered anything beyond that.

“And they have a manor house?” The conversation was picked up as if it hadn’t been interrupted.

“Yes. On the outskirts of Gotham.”

“Could we go there?”

“It would be quite a walk.”

“What about getting a cab?”

The insistent tone made it clear how fixated Pengy was on the concept but Ed had to shake his head.

“We couldn’t afford the fare.”

The feral grin that answered him probably should have been concerning rather than thrilling.

“Who says? I filched the petty cash before we left the circus.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a strategic genius?”

For a few seconds Pengy obviously didn’t know what to say to the remark and Ed felt an awkward embarrassment settle over him. Then he smiled genuinely at him.

“They haven’t. But thank you. Now why don’t you show off your smarts some more and show me where we can find a cab.”

Hence Ed came to find himself, late Christmas Eve, sat in the back of a disreputable looking cab alongside the most extraordinary individual he’d ever encountered. The quiet atmosphere, as they each refrained from conversation in front of the already suspicious driver, made him feel ever more fidgety and anxious. Not from any second thoughts over his choices however. Simply a rising fear that this would all turn out to be an elaborate hoax or worse still a vivid daydream. For the first time in his life he felt the glimmer of freedom and of being truly alive. He couldn't stand the thought of losing it.

The bite of falling sleet as he got out of the vehicle went some way towards reassuring him of reality. He stood quiet while Pengy paid the driver but the man seemingly still had reservations about them.

“You sure you’re expected?”

His glance over them spoke to his doubts and Ed could hardly blame him on that front. Still, he summoned a confident smile from some unknown reserve and held up the letter, folded carefully just to show the prominent coat of arms.

“Absolutely,” he replied blithely. “I can safely say their Christmas simply won’t be the same if we don’t make it on time.”

“Speaking of,” Pengy interrupted impatiently and with a grab to Ed’s arm. “We better go.”

They ignored the cabbie who obviously decided it wasn’t worth his time to chase them. The sound of his tires rolling through the gathering water indicated his decision to leave and the pair focused on getting to the house as quickly as possible given the worsening weather. It was only once they’d reached the safety of the somewhat crumbling portico that it dawned on Ed that he didn’t know how they would play things from here. Announcing a long lost heir to a household had never been in any of his fancifully imagined future scenarios.

Before he could think the matter through however, Pengy had reached for the bell and rung. It echoed through the panelled door and made the house sound vacant somehow. Ed tried to recollect if they’d seen any lights at windows on their rushed journey but couldn’t be sure. The idea that they might have come all this way for nothing struck him and he wondered how they’d get back given their ride had just left.

Then, with seemingly no forewarning, the door swung open.

Despite everything he knew, Ed had still expected the door to be answered by a maid. The woman standing there was very clearly old money even if she couldn’t pass in high society now. He blinked rather stupidly at her as she eyed him and frowned.

“Can I help y-”

She cut herself off with a gasp as her gaze slid onto the Penguin Boy stood beside him and Ed could see the recognition in her eyes before she even said anything.

“Oh my god. Oswald.”

It clearly wasn’t a question. Glancing sideways himself Ed could hardly blame her instant identification despite the years. The fingers alone would be a giveaway without that defined nose elegantly accentuating his face. He stored the referenced name but bit his lip while he awaited Pengy - Oswald’s - reaction. It seemed for a few seconds that he didn’t know what to do but then he sighed and opened his arms to her.

“Mother.”

The reconciliation obviously came as a shock and perhaps that accounted for her automatic response to reciprocate the gesture. As she opened her arms though, and Oswald moved forward to embrace her, there was a very definite flinch. Her entire frame went rigid and it must have been painfully apparent how little she wanted her son’s touch.

Then a change came over her. Ed watched in fascination as her mouth opened slightly with a new form of shock and he wondered what had caused it. An upwelling of maternal feeling perhaps? The arms that had been so hesitant suddenly gripped Oswald’s shoulders and Ed thought perhaps this was truly the moment she would beg forgiveness.

He watched in curiosity as Oswald detached himself from her and she staggered backward. At that point Ed realised the truth. A large red stain was growing from a puncture wound in her side which she was vainly clutching.

“I’ve been so looking forward to seeing you,” Oswald told her with an absolutely sincere smile, gripping her by the elbow and leading her back inside. “You and my father.”

“Oh my,” Ed muttered, wide eyed, before stepping quickly after them and shutting the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Ed knew he should have felt appalled. Horrified. Disgusted, sickened and revolted even. But he felt none of that. What he did feel was a strange elation. An intense fascination and hypnotic admiration. How often had he dreamed of killing his own wretched parents? Of how he could orchestrate it to look accidental and then be free of them forever. Yet he’d never found the courage.

And here was Oswald, in one day going from isolated circus freak to heir apparent and dispatching his parents without hesitation but with obvious relish. It was awe inspiring. Ed had watched with rapt attention as the Penguin Boy had utilised his mother’s incapacitated status to force his father into a position of vulnerability in hopes of his sparing her. On the sidelines it had occurred to Edward to wonder if the man really believed that it was possible for either of them to escape alive. He’d only known Oswald a few hours but he never doubted that he would see this ploy through having started it. Why would he ever forgive them for literally throwing him out?

Once both his parents had been subdued and injured to prevent their easy running, it had seemingly struck Oswald to check his witness. He had turned to Edward with a flash of anxiety in his gaze and the recognition that perhaps Oswald might actually hope not to kill him made Ed feel valued in a way he rarely did. So instead of feeling threatened by the scenario he viewed it as an experience shared and smiled brightly. Still, Oswald apparently had his doubts and he stood indecisively.

“What should we do with them now?” he asked somewhat reluctantly.

Ed took a moment to glance at the pair. Truthfully he felt little for them, only a distaste when he recollected what they’d done to their child just for appearing different. The remembrance sparked an idea however and he grinned again.

“The river flows through the gardens doesn’t it?” he asked them, not really expecting an answer, before returning his attention to Oswald. “That’s how they disposed of you. Wouldn’t it be fitting to dispose of them the same way?”

Oswald’s face lit up and he smiled widely in return.

“Best get moving then,” he suggested. “Before they lose too much blood and can’t walk. I have no intention of carrying their burden.”

He wasted no time in seizing his father by the hair and yanking to get him upright. A muffled sound indicated the action was unwelcome but he nevertheless obeyed. Perhaps because he could see the knife still in Oswald’s grasp. Ed was instinctively less forceful in his handling of Oswald’s mother, though not from any sympathy, merely from long ingrained politeness. Still, she had lost more blood than her husband and was more receptive to guidance.

It was a stumbling, awkward procession out and down the dark garden, only partially due to the injured nature of their victims, but Ed was grateful for it. Not only did it give him time to mentally align their position at the house with his memorised map but it also covered the waddling nature of Oswald’s walk from his parents. It had not escaped Ed’s notice that the other boy had been attempting to hide or repress signs of his abnormality from these judgemental people. It made little sense to Ed since they’d be dead soon but he assumed it gave Oswald satisfaction.

There was no mistaking their direction as they neared the river however and the muffled exhortations became more urgent. A glance showed Ed that Oswald was having to use far greater force to restrain the taller man and he took a second to marvel at the obvious strength displayed until his own charge made an abortive move, either premeditated or accidental, and he returned his attention to what they were doing. A stonework bridge spanned the rumbling water which had obviously risen in the winter weather. Ed was grateful to see it as the rain had by now soaked him to the skin.

Dragging Oswald’s parents up onto the structure was the most labour intensive part of the procedure. His father was by now using whatever strength he had left to try and fight, despite being both sluggish and restrained. His mother on the other hand was close to passing out and was turning into a dead weight. Ed propped her against the balustrade and turned to assist Oswald. With his own grip catching the man off guard, Oswald snarled viciously and shoved him violently towards the edge. Ed barely remembered to let go as he struck the ledge and toppled over. The splash as he hit was almost drowned out by the downpour and rushing currents. Oswald staggered forward to peer over but there was nothing to be seen. It was with sheer disdain that he glanced sideways at the body of his mother and easily toppled her over as well, watching this time to see her caught in the swirls and rapidly dragged beneath the surface.

Behind him, Ed stood momentarily forgotten. He could only wonder what was running through Oswald’s head. Then the so-called Penguin Boy tipped his head back to stare into the falling rain and laughed. Turning about he dipped his head back down to look at Ed, a new-found glitter in his eyes and Ed was momentarily transfixed by the aura of invincibility he seemed to exude. Until a hacking cough returned him to reality and he saw the disturbing bile leak onto Oswald’s chin.

“We best get back inside or you’ll catch your death out here,” he chivvied.

He got no argument and they fell into a half jog back up to the house. Whether it was that, the previous walk down or simply the driving rain, but by the time they reached the security of the house, both were out of breath and Oswald was coughing alarmingly. Ed himself was shivering but he immediately began cataloguing their next course of action. Reaching out he placed both hands on Oswald’s shoulders and walked him in the direction of the sitting room they’d been in earlier. The fire was still going and he kept them moving until they were both stood before it. He didn’t say anything but quickly knelt to lay more logs and stack the fire back up. Upon standing again though he got a shock.

“”Wh-what are you doing?”

Oswald looked up from where he’d been wrestling with the buttons on his shirt, only having got a few unfastened.

“We’ll dry faster if we change out of these clothes,” he answered reasonably.

Ed snapped his mouth shut because it was patently true and he would have suggested it himself in a second. It was merely the surprise of Oswald preempting him that caught him out.

“Let me help,” he offered instead. “My fingers are warmer.”

It was an unexpected benefit of dealing with the fire and allowed him to make quick work of the small shirt buttons. While Oswald shucked that off, Ed turned his attention to his own. Nevertheless he couldn’t help but glance as Oswald unhesitatingly slipped off his shoes, socks and pants with no embarrassment whatsoever to stand once again exposed before him. His unbothered attitude was only exemplified as he busied himself laying the articles out to dry better while Ed continued his undressing. It occurred to Ed that life in the circus probably didn’t allow for over much privacy but he still hesitated himself as he got to his underwear. Thankfully he was provided a suitable distraction as Oswald spoke again.

“Do you suppose there’s anything we might wear upstairs?”

“That is actually a very good idea,” he agreed.

Oswald nodded but didn’t move and it struck Ed that he was waiting for him to remove the last of his wet garments to dry before they left the fireside. He therefore steeled himself and shoved them down his legs. It was somehow both a relief and anticlimactic that he was spared only a brief glance before Oswald led the way to go explore upstairs. Ed followed and tried to adjust to the reaction. He was used to ridicule more than anything but he had expected curiosity. He found this reaction more comfortable however, being as it left him with no feeling of expectation or disappointment, merely an unfamiliar acceptance.

Such contemplation didn’t distract him long though as the cold of the rest of the house hit him and he rubbed his hands up his arms vigorously.

“Are you really not bothered by this?”

He got a glance back before he was answered.

“Sudden changes in temperature bother me. Heat waves bother me. This sort of chill? No.”

Ed almost asked why he wanted to find clothes in that case but managed to bite his tongue. That was a proposition he really didn’t want to be dealing with.

It was easy enough to find the main bedroom and hence the accompanying dressing room replete with wardrobes and drawers. Almost immediately Ed was distracted by the glittering finery of the gowns hanging along one side. He was pretty certain just one of the dresses would be worth more than all his own wardrobe put together and wondered why they hadn’t sold some of them. He turned to ask Oswald, only to realise his attention had been caught a different way entirely.

“What on earth are you putting that on for?”

“What?” Oswald frowned. “It’s clothing and it’s comfortable.”

“It's barely clothing,” Ed protested. “It’s basically underwear.”

He wasn’t sure whether they were a one-piece sleepwear or a union suit to go under clothes but either way they wouldn’t pass muster in public.

“So?” Oswald countered, obviously happy in his choice. “We’re not expecting company and you’ve seen me in less.”

The argument made sense and Ed let the matter drop. He had to admit the garment looked well enough on Oswald’s shorter rounder form than any of the tailored clothes here likely would. Still he couldn’t help but eye some of the nicer things with disappointment. Letting out a sigh however he moved towards the sleepwear options. Only to have a wide hand land on his arm.

“Just because I’m choosing comfort doesn’t mean you have to. If you want to try some other stuff on you might as well go ahead.”

“I couldn’t. I can’t pull off these sorts of looks. People will laugh at me.”

Oswald made a show of looking around.

“What people?” he asked pointedly. “There’s only me and I assure you  _ I  _ won’t laugh.” At Ed’s continuing hesitance he softened his tone. “You can change back into your normal clothes once they’re dry. Before we have to go back. But… since we’re here… why don’t we make a holiday of it?”

“A holiday?” Ed perked up. “Like our own Christmas?”

Something about his expression seemed to unnerve Oswald and he shrugged dismissively.

“The tree was all set up. I bet there’s good food in the kitchen. And it's not like anyone here will miss those presents. Unless you need to get back soon of course.”

“No!” Ed jumped on the opportunity. “That sounds like an excellent plan. Waste not, want not, as they say.”

He spun with new determination back to the rack of clothes, now focused on what most suggested ‘holiday’ to him. A chuckle behind him suggested his enthusiasm was appreciated.

“I’ll go raid the kitchen in that case.”

To be honest Ed couldn’t have answered whether Oswald said anything else he was so fixated on finding the perfect outfit. If this was to be his one proper holiday, with his only chance to wear something so glamorous, then he was determined to make it count. By the time he came out of his sartorial fixation, he was painfully aware that he didn’t even know how much time he’d been thus engaged. He did however firmly believe that he’d never looked so good.

He’d found a women’s suit that fit him exquisitely, with trousers tapering round his narrow legs and a jacket with shoulder pads to accentuate his slim build. It had glittering gems forming puzzling patterns and was in a vivid shade of green that he felt was highly suggestive of the Christmas theme. He’d also found some make up to cover his bruise before getting a little carried away. He wasn’t particularly skilled, and had mostly gone for something dramatic, but he didn’t think it looked half bad. It occurred to him that he might invest in learning the skill although perhaps using something more subtle in usual circumstances.

Finally satisfied, and conscious now of how long he might have left Oswald alone, he picked up an accessory he’d found for Oswald and set off to join him in the kitchen. It had clearly been long enough for him to give up on waiting and Oswald had stuffed cheeks from where he was chewing on lord knew what. He’d stopped abruptly on seeing the vision Ed made in his new ensemble however and Ed smiled with bright red lips as he approached. It was almost sweet to see Oswald hastily swallowing and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“I see what you meant about me being underdressed,” he muttered.

“Oh!”

Ed glanced back to his side, having almost forgotten in his delight at the reaction what he’d found. He raised it to Oswald’s line of sight and then placed it deliberately upon his head. The top hat was a perfect fit.

“There we are. A perfect gentleman.”

Oswald grinned and tilted his head coquettishly.

“In that case…” He moved aside and drew out a chair. “Allow me.”

There was no helping his blush as he accepted the proffered seat but he didn’t care. If this was going to be their movie picture Christmas, then he was going to play his part to the hilt. Watching Oswald return to his own chair and flip out a napkin with a flourish he felt his spirits lift that they were both on the same wavelength and hoped that if this were a dream he wouldn’t awaken before the conclusion.


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner wasn’t really like he’d seen in the movies, partially because all the food was still in packets and cold, but the atmosphere was what he felt like festive dinners should have. There was no fear of retribution for reaching for a dish nor admonishments for handling his cutlery wrong. In point of fact Oswald openly admired his delicate way of dealing with his food. He himself opted for the more direct method of fingers straight to mouth but his lack of ceremony struck Ed as charming rather than obnoxious. In fact, when Oswald clearly began getting self-conscious and tried co-ordinating a knife and fork, Ed decided to forgo the implements himself so he’d feel more at ease.

It was necessary to wash their hands afterwards but they ignored the debris on the table and simply gathered up some desserts to take back into the warmer sitting room. Ed couldn’t help but be slightly distracted when he caught sight of the way the light reflected and glittered from his jacket and he smiled to himself.

“We are all made of stardust,” Oswald declaimed from his seat on the sofa. “But admittedly some of us shine more than others.”

His gesture made it clear he was comparing the two of them and Ed scoffed in response.

“It’s all razzle dazzle to befuddle the punters at the end of the day though,” he commented. “Misdirection and surface show. What matters is beneath the surface. Intelligence and guile.”

“I will drink a toast to that.” A raised glass backed up his statement. “To the marks underestimating us.”

The use of the term ‘us’ made Ed blush and he quickly hid the reaction behind his own glass. He’d almost forgotten his original ambition to join the circus. The desire to do that had diminished with his exposure to the place but the idea of staying with Oswald, just the two of them, was entrancing on its own. Rather than deal with any of that conundrum, he turned his attention to the gifts under the tree.

“It’s officially Christmas Day now. Shall we?”

A gesture conveyed Oswald’s agreement and Ed moved across. Kneeling carefully it was easy to position himself so he could gather the prettily wrapped boxes and also reach across to hand half to Oswald. With no idea what to expect from the mystery packages he arbitrarily decided to give those for Tucker Cobblepot to Oswald and keep those for Esther to himself. It seemed fair that the heir get first dibs on those things most likely to appeal to him. Ed worried he’d mistepped as he saw Oswald merely sat staring at the first of the presents in his lap.

“Is something wrong?”

For an agonising few seconds, Oswald said nothing at all. Then he spoke very slowly and deliberately.

“I think this is the first time I have ever received a present.”

There was a hitch in his voice indicative of a level of emotion Edward had no idea how to adequately deal with and he twisted his hands awkwardly as he wondered what to say in response.

“Oh.”

Thankfully, Oswald was more adept at such things and shook the moment off with a grin.

“Let’s hope it's a good one huh?”

Ed smiled back and watched with more anxiety than he otherwise would have, almost as if it was something he himself had chosen with a wish to please. Oswald wasted no time on pulling the ribbon free and ripping the paper off to reveal what was obviously a jewelry box. At which point he laughed and held up his newest acquisition, positioning it deliberately in front of his eye.

“How does it look?” he asked teasingly.

“Very debonair,” Ed answered at once. “Like you’re ready for a night at the opera.”

His reply brought another laugh out of Oswald and he carefully replaced the monocle in its box before wrapping his hand round it almost possessively and returning his attention to Ed.

“Your turn.”

Ed dutifully and eagerly attacked his own box with the same grace Oswald had shown and was rewarded with a beautiful green silk scarf that flowed like silk through his hands.

“It must be fate,” Oswald determined, causing Ed to glance up in confusion for an explanation. “It goes perfectly with that outfit,” Oswald added.

The notion somehow pleased Ed and he smiled while wrapping it delicately about his neck.

“Do you think green is my colour?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I shall wear it always,” he declared emphatically.

It made Oswald laugh again even as he picked up the next of his gifts. Ed soaked in the happy warmth of companionship a few seconds longer before returning to his own clutch of presents. Not all of them were so well received but they still enjoyed joking about with them. The discovery of an actually quite useful keyring in one of Esther’s boxes prompted a sudden realisation on Edward’s part and he spoke without thinking.

"I suppose you get the house too." He blinked as the idea struck him. "You could leave the circus. Live here."

He didn't add, although the thought was clear in his mind, that he could possibly live there too. A snort broke that momentary daydream however.

"And do what? You said yourself there was no fortune. I'd be a freak in a crumbling ruin instead of a travelling show. I need to find a way of making my own money before I settle on my estate."

There was no arguing with that reasoning. Ed knew from the tragedy of the Wayne's that money didn't buy lifelong happiness but it sure made dealing with everything a hell of a lot easier.

"Maybe one day you'll take over the circus," he proposed instead.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Oswald tilted his head and Ed wondered what ideas were brewing in his mind. The prospect of joining the circus himself bubbled up again but now he realised he couldn't lead that life and he averted his gaze. There was an unbound spontaneity to their world which he knew he couldn't match. To avoid the question being asked he proposed another holiday tradition.

"We should dance!"

"What?"

The tone of the reply was lost on Edward as he pushed himself to his feet and he assumed Oswald had simply not processed the sudden conversation change.

“I’ve never had anyone to dance with before.” He straightened up finally and smiled. “I don’t want to miss this opportunity.”

“You want to dance,” Oswald repeated deadpan and noticeably not moving. “With me?”

“Sure.”

Ed had moved across to the radio as he spoke but was surprised upon turning back to see Oswald still seated.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t dance. I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

“I’m not expecting a foxtrot or flawless tango,” Ed huffed before hesitating. “You don’t have to of course. I just thought it might be nice.”

He didn’t quite know what to do in the awkward pause that followed and stood twitching his fingers anxiously until Oswald suddenly relented.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” He pushed himself up and approached, then stopped suddenly. “As long as you promise not to laugh.”

“Why on earth should I laugh?”

The caveat had the effect of stopping Ed’s grin and that must have reassured Oswald who moved over the rest of the way to him.

“Because I’m hardly graceful. And it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve danced only to get laughed at.”

“I promise I won’t laugh,” Ed swore.

There was a minute’s fumbling as both tried to work out where to place their hands and how to move their feet so as not to injure each other but then they began a simple circling motion around the rug. Out of sight of Oswald’s gaze now, Ed’s grin returned full force.

“This is nice.”

Perhaps it was the shyness of his quiet voice, or the way his unusual fingers were gripping his sides, but Ed couldn’t resist his urge to duck down and kiss his temple. Immediately, Oswald planted himself and pulled back to stare at him suspiciously.

“What was that for?”

All Ed could do was open and shut his mouth as his panic grew with the chorus in his head deriding him as queer. Thankfully some part of his mind was still looking out for him and his finger pointed upwards helpfully.

“Mistletoe,” he managed to answer.

“Huh.” Oswald transferred his suspicious gaze to the innocuous plant. “Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it.”

Ed wished he had a witty come back to that but his mind had derailed leaving his mouth to spout facts.

“It’s parasitic in fact. Although it has chlorophyll and can manufacture its own food it draws all its water and nutrients from its host, injecting a haustorium to do so.”

To Ed’s disappointment Oswald was staggering back over to the sofa.

“It’s a survivor. Can’t blame it for that.”

“No. It's a highly effective strategy.”

He felt suddenly highly exposed, stood in the expanse of the room, and wandered back towards the fireside. The cracking of the logs helped drown out the stuttered beating of his heart and he let himself breathe deeply a moment.

“Why don’t you try those shoes on? Now you’re up,” Oswald suggested.

A grateful smile lit Edward’s face as their interaction returned to safer waters and he happily complied with the request. They were too big for Ed’s immature feet and absolutely too high a heel for someone used to flat sensible shoes but he nevertheless enjoyed parading up and down in them. It only took a couple of turns of him pretending to be a haughty femme fatale before Oswald joined in the make believe game, acting the part of a jaded private eye and posturing with an empty cigarette holder as he did so. Between them they invented ever more ludicrous claims and scenarios until eventually Ed’s restrained giggles got the better of him and he lost balance to fall onto the sofa along from Oswald.

It was a soft landing and he merely shifted into a more comfortable position there where he could watch the laughter lines creasing Oswald’s happy face. If he’d ever shared so much fun with someone then he couldn’t recollect it. He wanted to hold onto the moment forever but he could already feel the long day catching up with him. The excessive dinner and warm fire were having their inevitable effect and it was getting harder to fight his drooping eyelids.

“Do you want to go find a bed?”

Oswald’s voice snapped Ed awake quickly but he didn’t move.

“No. Too much bother.”

He shifted slightly to get the cushion into a more supportive position. It didn’t make any logical sense but he didn’t want to leave the room. It felt as if this was now a safe haven and stepping beyond it would break the spell of protection it cast.

“Why don’t you... “ Oswald cut himself off, instantly drawing Ed’s full attention. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to share the space more.”

“That’s okay.” Ed settled again. “I’m used to sleeping in odd positions.”

He didn’t want to explain that he’d sometimes found it necessary to curl up in the bottom of his wardrobe. This was still luxurious by comparison.

“Oh. Okay.”

His tone caught Ed’s ear and he glanced back to see that he was tapping his fingers idly on his chest, apparently anxious about something. It wasn’t hard to realise his misassumption.

“Unless you wanted to,” he amended.

“No. It’s fine. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“But?” Ed prompted, sitting himself up now.

It took a second before Oswald relented.

“But I’m used to sleeping with a flock of penguins. It feels kind of strange to have nothing jostling alongside.”

Twisting himself round, Ed flopped down again more in the crook of Oswald’s arm and sprawled against his belly.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes.” The word came out more akin to a sigh than anything but he obviously caught himself. “Are you sure you don’t mind though?”

“Why should I mind?”

In truth Ed had never slept so close with someone before and was already finding it a different experience. There was a level of intuitive comfort from the sensations of a living being next to him and he suddenly understood why Oswald would miss it if he slept alone. He felt the shrug in answer to his question.

“I’m a freak. It's taking some getting used to that you aren’t bothered by that.”

“Maybe I’m a freak too,” Ed murmured, half not wanting to be heard.

He wasn’t sure if Oswald actually heard, and simply didn’t have a response, or whether he missed it entirely, but he felt his arm move to wrap itself about his waist and sighed. Nothing further was said and he drifted off to the soft crackling sound of the wood burning.


	6. Chapter 6

A rushed whispering sound woke Ed and he tensed in anticipation of his parents cruel hands yet the soft warmth under him caused his brow to furrow in confusion. Cautiously he opened his eyes to assess the situation and found his gaze landing on a pale face lax in sleep. Only the pre-dawn light lit the features, making the pallor more pronounced, but it was enough to highlight a dark dribble at the corner of his mouth.

Despite the unattractive drool Ed felt only elation at seeing Oswald. Everything had been real. It wasn’t some fantasy that he’d overly invested in to the point of mistaking it for reality. There was no imagining the giving flesh squishing his own nor the rough gurgling snores. He frowned again. But in that case, it couldn’t have been his parents voices waking him. So who was it?

He’d barely formed the thought when a flashlight beam washed over him, temporarily blinding him, and he heard the person much closer.

“Dammit. He  _ is  _ here. And with some kid.”

Ed felt Oswald twitch as he obviously awoke and the loose hold tightened about him even as he recovered his sight to peer up at their uninvited guest. Beneath him Oswald coughed and rolled himself to better clear his throat and Ed shimmied quickly away to sit up and give him space. While Oswald wiped at his mouth, Edward found himself the focus of the snake lady from the circus.

“Who’re you? You live here?”

“No. I’m Ed. Oswald’s friend.”

“Who is Oswald?”

That voice came from the strong-man who stepped alongside his shrugging companion.

“ _ I _ am,” Oswald declared, glaring up at them. “And this is  _ my  _ house.”

“Oh really?” She shifted her shoulders again and Ed got the impression she was too used to adjusting for a serpent there. “And how do you figure that?”

“The Cobblepots were my parents.” Oswald tilted his chin defiantly. “Now they’re dead so the house is mine.”

The snake lady threw up her hands but the strong-man answered.

“You think it's so simple huh? There will be wills and probate and tax. Plus you are still but a child.”

“Not to mention an investigation into how they both suddenly  _ died _ ,” was added pointedly with a venomous hiss and Ed felt compelled to speak up.

“We tracked them down. When they were confronted with what they’d done, they both felt terrible remorse. We couldn’t do anything.”

“A likely story,” she sniffed. “And the circus won’t stick around long enough to be caught up in this. Come on. We have to get going.”

She reached for Oswald’s arm and he instinctively flinched away. Ed verbally interrupted again.

“How did you even know we’d be here? Or what happened to Oswald’s parents?”

“You shouldn’t have taken the letter from the ringmaster’s book,” she admonished. “But one of the things you learn in the trade is to have contacts in the police force all over. Two well-to-do bodies washing up gets tongues wagging. From there he just put one and one together.”

Her gaze flittered over the pair of them sat together on the sofa and Ed wondered what she must have thought, finding him here with Oswald. The realisation of what others would think finding them here, given the fact that the Cobblepots’ bodies had already been found made him tense in apprehension. The police would no doubt be here soon and they’d ring his parents. And the snake lady was right. Oswald wouldn’t be allowed to inherit as a minor. Ed wasn’t sure what would happen but kids weren’t allowed to live on their own at their age.

His anxious posture was obviously apparent to his companion whose shrewd eye was watching him carefully.

“Can we have a minute?” Oswald asked their escorts.

“We don’t have time-” snake lady protested even as the strong-man laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“They wish to say goodbye,” he said. “Let Pengy bid his friend farewell.”

“Fine.” She shrugged off his hand. “But  _ only  _ for a minute.”

She stormed out and the strong-man offered a sympathetic smile before following. Not that either boy was particularly paying attention. They had barely left the room when Oswald spoke.

“When you came to the circus, were you running away? You said your parents didn’t care for you.”

Edward hesitated. He didn’t want to lie to Oswald and yet the truth would only give him false hope.

“I can’t live a circus life,” he answered softly. “I thought I could but… I’m not ready.”

“It's not that hard,” Oswald countered. “And you’re obviously smart enough. You’d figure it out. We can always use more hands.”

“Yes. No.” Ed wrung his hands and heaved a deep breath, determined to explain. “I’m smart, yes, but in a structured way. I know facts and patterns and logic. Your life, it's unpredictable. It requires an adaptability I’m not suited for. I’m getting stressed just thinking about it. If I tried… I’d…”

Despite his best efforts his jaw clenched and he found his mind spiralling into a panic. A warmth enveloped his clenched knuckles and he focused his gaze on it, recognising Oswald’s hand and turning his thought onto a recital of the bones and probably fusions that resulted in the abnormal look.

“Hey. It’s okay. You okay?”

Edward nodded briskly and took another calming breath to enable him to look up with a smile.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He couldn’t have said whether he was apologising for nearly breaking down or for disappointing Oswald. Probably both. He’d always found it safer to apologise first and work out what for after. A jagged smile answered him.

“No need to apologise. You’re being honest. I’m just sorry you can’t come with me and I can’t stay here.”

“But you’ll be back,” Ed suddenly realised. “I mean. This  _ is  _ your house.”

The realisation obviously hadn’t struck Oswald yet but Ed could see it sinking in.

“I guess it is. I’m sure it wouldn’t be so strange if on a future visit I looked up my parents and took steps about my inheritance.”

There was a devious twinkle in his eye that Ed wished he could remember forever. He knew for certain he’d never meet anyone else with Oswald’s ability to inspire him so.

“Will you still be in Gotham?” Oswald asked suddenly. “Whenever the circus returns?”

“Yes,” he assured him, shrugging nonchalantly. “Even if I didn’t have an incentive to stay, I do best when I know my environment.”

He blinked abruptly as an idea struck him. He’d opened his mouth to tell Oswald when snake lady yelled back into the room.

“You’ve had  _ two  _ minutes. Time to go. We do  _ not  _ want the police finding us here.”

Oswald stood almost instinctively at the tone and Ed followed suit, following him to the door and the grown ups.

“Finally,” she muttered.

“Where do you live? We’ll drop you home.”

The offer was kind but Ed shook his head at the strong-man.

“You go. I’ll hide our tracks here.”

“Ed?” Oswald turned to him. “You don’t want to risk the police finding you either.”

The concern made him smile and gave him a warm buzz.

“Trust me. I have had years of practise evading being found by the adults in my life. I don’t think the GCPD will have any chance of catching me unawares. Besides, I’ve had a brilliant idea for how I might lay some red herrings for them.”

He flashed a blinding smile at Oswald who grinned conspiratorially back.

“Red herrings huh? Now you’re talking my language.”

Their escorts were obviously getting impatient now and the snake lady caught Oswald by the shoulder to propel him out and towards their waiting vehicle.

“You can do whatever you want here. But the circus is leaving just as soon as we get back.”

Ed resigned himself to watching his newest and only friend leave but Oswald managed to duck himself out of her grasp to hurry back to him. Before Ed knew what was happening he felt slightly chapped lips press onto his cheek.

“We’ll meet again,” Oswald assured him. “Look out for me returning here on my birthday.”

“Your birthday? But we haven’t uncovered your birth certificate yet.”

A flipper waved dismissively.

“Not  _ that  _ birthday. My  _ true  _ birthday. The anniversary of the day I found myself.”

Ed didn't have time to do more than take in his determined expression before the Penguin Boy hurried back to his circus entourage and the three disappeared down the path. He watched silently as Oswald was driven out of his life and he briefly stood and contemplated the probable time lapse it might be before they returned. Given the events here it seemed entirely likely the ringmaster would give the city a wide berth for a while. It wasn’t as if there weren’t plenty of other cities they could ply their trade in. Yet he felt an undeniable certainty they  _ would  _ be back. Oswald would find a way to manipulate it, he was sure, if it was taking too long.

For now though, Ed had a new objective in mind and preparations of his own to make. Firstly he would clear the evidence of their presence, most notably the clothes still left out by the fireplace. He wished he’d recollected to give Oswald’s back to him but at least he seemed happier in his onesie. Ed would reluctantly return what he’d borrowed and redress. Then he would set up as many clues as he could manage before the cops arrived.

After that, he had several new ideas for dealing with his parents. It was quite possible Ed had never smiled quite so much as he had this last day with Oswald. In all likelihood he wouldn’t have many occasions again until the other boy returned but he’d do what he could to turn his life around. When Oswald came back, Ed wanted to show him how much he was capable of when in his element. He’d make himself into somebody worth knowing.

And then?

The whole of Gotham would discover just what two unwanted boys could do when they finally found someone to appreciate them.


End file.
